Swamped

“Shit,” she said, hitting the steering wheel. How had she landed in the middle of nowhere? This was literally a swamp.

“Where are we going, mommy?” her four-year-old chirped from the back seat. She sighed.

“It’s a surprise,” she said, trying not to let a despairing laugh take hold of her.

It was his birthday and here they were, camped out in the middle of a swamp. She started the engine again and hit the accelerator. Only the sound of the wheels spinning up mud was heard.

“Mommy, we’re not moving,” her son said, straining to look out the window. “Why are we not moving?”

“I don’t know!” she said desperately. “Why are we not moving? Oh god. Oh no. Please don’t do this.” She kept pushing the accelerator, but nothing happened. “Shit,” she said again, this time it was a scream.

“Is everything okay, mommy?”

She shook her head.

“Don’t worry, mommy. I’m not mad. We can have a party here.”

She smiled at her son through her tears. She wished she could be as young and naïve as him again.